


Blood and Circuses

by niichts



Series: The New Adventures Of The Thirteenth Doctor (And Fam) [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-17 21:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18973099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niichts/pseuds/niichts
Summary: Rest and relaxation. That's all Yasmin Khan wants. Especially after her and her friends' last excursion with the Doctor. But a night on security duty at the local theater swiftly derails, leaving her, Graham and Ryan up against a strange new threat that may or may not be alien - and this time, with absolutely no Doctor there to help them out.





	1. Upcoming

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is the second story in what has become my Doctor Who fic series. You don't need to know the last story ("Let's Gather the Family") to understand the basic narrative of this one, but there will be occasional moments where I reference back to it through dialogue, internal monologues, etc. 
> 
> There's been quite a few fics I've seen that involve the companions having to work on their lonesome without the Doctor. True, they've involved the Family of Blood and this one doesn't (sorry!), but I thought it's a really good dynamic that I wanted to take a stab at too. So here goes.
> 
> (Yes, I deliberately looked up theaters in Sheffield so as to make thew world-building seem more authentic. I gotta say, the Crucible does look really nice based on the Google Image search, mind. )

Lydia Marie was working late. Again. Mister Ozzie was a good show partner, but incredibly impatient when it came to life behind the curtains. He’d blamed their lack of money on _her_ , for goodness’ sake. It was, in all honesty, rather rude of him to brand her as the one who was responsible for the failure.

 

Then again, their stage career had admittedly been a consistent dive. It seemed that none of their audiences liked them, regardless of the amount of effort they put in. Every time they’d scraped together enough finance for a trip to the next event, it had ended in complete failure.  

 

Firstly, there was the time they carried out their comedy routine at that old people’s home in Sussex and, according to the angry manager, they’d scared the pensioners and given one of them a literal heart attack. It wasn’t her fault that Ozzie had chosen the vulgar jokes instead of the safer ones.

 

Then there was the time they tried out for that talent show at that community centre in a lovely little village just outside of Cardiff, which she personally felt had been rather successful, to be honest. Hell, one of the judges was _choking_ with laughter. But no, it was all _“you’ve seriously hurt him!”_ this and _“someone call an ambulance!”_ that. Not to mention the subsequent ten minutes when the security men were threatening to have them arrested if they didn’t leave.

 

And so they had found themselves here. An ugly little hovel in Sheffield, where half the windows were broken and the hot water pipes were burst. Not to mention an apparent lack of insulation in any of its crumbling walls.

 

“It’s a nuisance!” she fumed, bent over the latest joke book she’d gone and bought, copying up those she thought looked ideal. The moonlight streaming through the holes in the moth-eaten blinds was admittedly rather pretty, but she was too hot and bothered to care. “He just looks at me and says _“get us some more cash, stat!”_ Can you believe it?”

 

She looked to the far end of the table, where her conversation partner was sat, his head lolled back in clear boredom.

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” she snapped, waving her pen threateningly in his direction. “I know he gives...well, _shouts_ the orders, but we’re equal partners in this! It don’t matter how big his mouth his, ‘cos I’m the one with the biggest brain! Then again, if I also had an unhinged jaw…” she mumbled in second thought.

 

Her head shot back up again, despite the man not moving in the slightest.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, Jerry. Mind if I call you Jerry? You’re just being a bit quiet and I’d really prefer to know the guy I’m ranting at a bit better.”

 

Jerry ever-persistently kept his mouth shut. She took this as a yes.

 

“I’m not going to pretend I totally get Ozzie’s idea, coming to Sheffield of all places. You’d think maybe London or Edinburgh if we wanted to go out with a bang, you know?”

 

More silence. Jerry clearly thought otherwise.

 

“Well anyway, Jerry, the show biz is getting to us both. So we’re giving it one last try this week down at the local theatre. There’ll be TV cameras, reporters, all the glam – imagine the opportunities we’ll have if the judges like our act!”

 

She smiled, losing herself to her wandering thoughts.

 

“Yeah…”

 

She let her pen hit the wooden table with a clatter, feeling the wood creak in agony as she moved her chair back and stood up. Time for bed. Did a mattress on top of a pile of wood count as a bed? Well it still had cushioning, so probably.

 

“Thanks for listening, Jerry” she added, smiling at him. “I know you’re not too big on talking and everything, but I love having someone around to vent with, you know? You really are a lovely, accepting guy.”

 

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the sudden wet sensation on her collar before she turned to leave the room.

 

“Goodnight now!”

 

A stray gust of wind blew the set of curtains open as she closed the door behind her, illuminating every inch of the disease-ridden room to the naked eye. Jerry still didn’t bother say anything in response, instead continuing to drip blood all over the stained carpet from the gushing wound in his neck.

 

*

 

Yaz needed a break.

 

No, her day at work still hadn’t changed beyond the usual collection of angry drivers disobeying the parking code and a handful of teenage vandals here and there, but at this point she welcomed it. It was nice to have a familiar rhythm return to you after a handful of weeks in which you’d been kidnapped by a terrifying woman wearing her own face and then learning that she’d met her match at the hands of an even _more_ terrifying woman.

 

She knew that wasn’t what she’d think of the Doctor. Terrifying. But she couldn’t help it. The woman had offered none of her usual long-winded speeches about how she’d defeated the villain, nor any consolation trip afterwards to make up for it. She’d been resolute and stony-faced, which only meant one of two things: either the Doctor had lost (which obviously hadn’t happened, at least in terms of her, Graham and Ryan all being alive) or she’d been forced to do something she really hadn’t wanted to.

 

And when _that_ was the foregone conclusion, Yaz didn’t think she’d ever _want_ to know, either.

 

Which was why she’d volunteered for security duty at the local talent show down at the Crucible Theatre. Nothing too arduous, maybe point a few wannabe stars in the right direction if the stage, discourage a few over-eager fans from entering the staff-only areas…maybe even get lost in a few of the auditions if she was lucky.

 

Not to mention that it would be a night away from Sonya, who was constantly pestering her on the subject of whether she’d had a falling out with her “girlfriend”. Yaz had originally assumed that after being knocked unconscious by Missy and used as bait to get her into kidnapping range, her sister would have learned to keep her mouth closed. But no, it seemed she was instead aiming to make up for the lost time in which she’d been asleep, by – what else – being as irritating as possible.

 

A handful of muffled shouts penetrated her bedroom wall. Looked like Sonya had grown bored of trying to pick fights with her and decided to target her mum instead. As if poor old Najia didn’t have enough on her plate. 

 

Despite it being only eight o’ clock, Yaz sighed and decided now was a better time than ever to shut off the lights and get into bed so she wouldn‘t have to listen to it all night. And as she lay there, she decided that the next time she met the Doctor, they would have a talk. A serious one. One where they wouldn’t be interrupted by the arrival of Graham and Ryan and the Doctor would find an excuse to grin and change the subject in the blink of an eye. Hell, maybe even have Yaz and Graham join her. Three against one, even if a tad intimidating, was always best for getting the information out. It worked all the time down at the station.

 

Then again, the point of that tactic down at the station was to make the criminal feel guilty. And Yaz didn’t want _anyone_ to feel that way in this particular scenario. Just the two of them it would have to be, then.

 

It would be simple, it would be straightforward and that scraping of nagging worry would finally be put to rest.

 

She snorted into her pillow as her mind succumbed to sleep. Well, she could dream, anyway. 


	2. Blondie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz's security shift at the local talent show takes a dangerous turn. Because of course it does. Even her day job has to go sideways at some point, doesn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, sorry for the wait. A lot of stuff got in the way of me typing this, so unfortunately there's been quite a long delay. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

“So Mister Ozzie, how did your date go last night?”

 

Yaz shifted uncomfortably from the corner of the stage, noticing the pained expressions of the judges that she’d seen on television a million times before. The auditions had gone alright, to be general: there’d been one or two jugglers, a surprisingly large number of group dancing acts (though the level of skill definitely differed depending on each) and an additional ménage-a-trois of other ludicrously wild acts. And despite having run for just over two hours by this point, the queue outside the theatre showed no signs of growing smaller. 

 

Honestly, what people wouldn’t do to be on local television for ten minutes of fame. She’d never understood the appeal herself, but that may just be the shyness talking.

 

“-and I said, _honey, that ain’t a stick, it’s a damn log!_ ”

 

Nobody laughed. The deafening silence brought her thoughts back to what she’d originally been focusing on. They’d seen bad acts tonight, sure. But this one…

 

_This_ one.

 

She almost pitied it.

 

The girl would say ask a question as a set-up, then the puppet would deliver the punch line in a heavily-exaggerated, borderline-stereotypical Australian accent, for some reason. This would be funny in its own absurd way, if it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d done it at least twelve times in the span of the past three minutes.

 

She recognised two of the five judges from television, hosting their own fickle little daytime shows, the rest she assumed had simply paid the most money to be there. There was a blonde-haired girl on the far right of the panel that she could’ve sworn she’d met before, though the multiple layers of makeup made it incredibly to distinguish their real face. Despite the amount of cheap paint on her face, however, her disgusted expression was the most visible of all of them.

 

And yet that damn puppet continued running its mouth. Or rather, the girl.

 

“She figured we oughta practice safe sex, ya know? Who does she think I am? The worst ya could get from me is termites!”

 

“That’s it”, came the blonde girl’s voice, her blue eyes narrowed in undisguised contempt, “I think we’ve seen enough.”  


A man to her left, slightly older with hair that greyed at the edges, leaned forward and coughed nervously. “Sweetheart, I love your energy, but…”  


He eyed the blonde girl nervously. And with good reason. She’d been tearing into every alternate act over the course of the night and Yaz was yet to work out whether it was put on or she genuinely enjoyed tearing apart everyone’s hopes and dreams. Given her tacky fake nails and designer shirt, she would daresay it was the latter.

 

Needless to say, the man was cut across.

 

“…but you stink” the girl said, with absolutely no mercy. “You show up here dressed in a ragged jumper and tights, looking half-dead and like you haven’t eaten in days…”  


Despite her ever-mounting dislike for the woman, Yaz had to admit she had a point. The torso of the girl behind the wooden figure was hidden under a thick woolly black fleece, which contained holes that ranged from small to humongous. She may even have a slim figure, Yaz figured, given the skinniness of her legs (which were wrapped in red-and-black-striped tights that looked more like part of a Halloween outfit than casual getup), but it was completely veiled by its bulkiness and how obvious it was that the fleece was at least three sizes too big for her short, slender frame. Her face was pale and gaunt, with heavily pronounced marks under her eyes from lack of sleep that could be seen from the other end of the room. Her jet-black hair was untidy and a small portion had been tied up in a loose, scraggly piece of fabric in a messy knot.

 

In short, she looked like a walking zombie. But at least Yaz had the common decency not to say anything. The same couldn’t be said for the rude girl on the panel, who continued to mouth off.

 

“…your puppet looks like something you pulled out of the ruins of a blitzed house…”  


Again, not exactly wrong. The puppet was standard enough – a small black, fabric suit that was pinstriped and featured a wilted purple flower on the right side of its chest, as well as a ratty red tie up the middle. An equally black fedora. But the face was half-rotten. Whilst one side remained normal and just gave the usual air of vague creepiness that most dolls usually did, the other half was moulded, old and even partially burned. Half of the mouth had been chipped away, leaving the teeth exposed and its left-hand eye was bright yellow and halfway out of the socket.

 

“…and above all sunshine, I could totally see your lips move!”

 

Well, there was the bomb. Insult the person’s physical appearance and then drop the final nuke in order to see whether or not they have a breakdown on stage.

 

The blonde woman leaned back in her chair, recovering from her outburst, whilst at the same time smirking as the older man rubbed his neck, embarrassed. The other judges simply remained silent or nodded their agreement.

 

“Um…does anyone wish for this contestant to go through to the final?” the older man asked eventually, sweating slightly.

 

Nothing.

 

“And all those who wish to have this contestant to be disqualified?”

 

The blonde girl’s hand was the first one to rise, causing Yaz’s dislike to increase even further than she originally believed possible. Then it got even higher as the other judges raised their hands too, the girl’s face becoming even more distraught as they did so.

 

“But…but, please!” she begged. Yaz was fairly sure that this was the first act they’d had all night were it had been a unanimous “no”, which most likely just added to the girl’s pain. “Here, I…I can do it again!”

 

She lifted the doll back up, flapping its jaws and pulling her voice squeakily, nowhere near as professionally. Yaz didn’t know if it could in a million years be anything other than panic. Not to mention that if her lips did move before, they definitely were now.

 

“Uh…uh…” she tried, eyes welling up slightly. “Hey, anyone here know the one about the duck and the dentist? Well ya see, it goes like this…”

 

The doll moved back in her hand suddenly, the arm flinging into her face and smacking her on the cheek. She recoiled and winced, the voice cutting out in a strangled cry.

 

“Even your own manky little puppet wants you to shut it” the blonde laughed cruelly, swimming in her own sadistic joy. “Maybe you should take that as a sign to leave.”  


She motioned to the other policeman who was seeing people through onto the stage.

 

“ _Next!”_

Yaz felt physically sick at the girl’s unnecessary harshness towards someone who was most likely only a few years younger than she was. She instead forced herself to look at the stage, which caused her to frown slightly.

 

Despite no-one paying her any attention anymore, the girl onstage manoeuvred the puppet’s head to face her own and leaned in as its jaws began to move silently. She nodded slowly every few seconds as listening in to a secret, before sitting back up and directly addressing the judges, a smile back on her face. Or at least, one judge in particular.

 

“Mister Ozzie would like to give you a hug, Miss.”

 

The blonde evidently wasn’t amused.

 

“I said _, next_! We’ve wasted enough time here already!”

 

“Just a hug. Then I promise we’ll leave.”  


The old man simply coughed, shrugging at the blonde. The other two judges may as well have been dead for the amount of response they gave.

 

“Fine” the blonde griped eventually, making a big a show as possible of rolling her eyes. “Just try not to get wood chippings or loose hair all over the shirt, yeah?”

 

“Sure thing, lady!” came a chipper male voice, this time emanating from the puppet. Not only had the dark-haired girl regained the voice she’d used earlier, but this time it seemed eerily more realistic. Even the blonde seemed to notice, her façade of disgust hesitating slightly.

 

The puppet came across the table until it was staring the blonde dead in the eyes. The blonde’s lip curled as its arms spread forward on two wooden sticks.

 

“C’mon, let’s hug it out, blondie! It ain’t like there’s a war on no more!”

 

The blonde grumbled slightly as it finally touched her on either shoulder, the old man simply leaning back slightly in his own seat to let it do so. That was when it uttered a sentence that caused time to seemingly stop.

 

“Oh, an’ by the way…see if ya can spot the poor gal’s lips movin’ when I do _this_ , yeah?”

 

The confusion that spread across the room was so palpable it could have been cut with a knife. Yaz’s brow furrowed further, the judges turned to stare at the puppet, and even the policeman behind the curtain turned in bewilderment, halfway through seeing the next act on.

 

The blonde managed to say “ _wha-?”_ before she suddenly screamed and time started to move again. Yaz stepped back in horror as blood suddenly spurted from her shoulders, droplets hitting the side of the older man’s face and causing the other three judges to jump back in adamant terror. The blonde finally managed to wrench herself out of the puppets grasp, whimpering.

 

Yaz finally found the strength in her body to turn around and face the puppet from across the room. The wooden doll lifted its arm back upwards again, revealing a small, black, writhing mass on either of its cufflinks, a cruel smile of its own seemingly plastered across its features.

 

“ _What have you done?_ ” one of the other judges cried, eyes wide at the sight of the bleeding girl, but not wanting to go anywhere near her.

 

“Oh, this?” the dark-haired girl responded simply, the smile becoming all the more sinister with each passing second. “You’re just jealous.”

 

Yaz dove her hand into her jacket for her taser, fumbling with the latch over its pocket. Her hands couldn’t seem to undo the damn thing…

 

“ _Hands up!_ ”  


The policeman from the stage, after having ushered the other contestants away from the immediate vicinity, had drawn his own taser and was pointing it at the duo. His aim seemed to be alternating between the girl and the puppet – what with the suddenly lifelike way in which the it’s empty gaze turned towards him, he’d obviously remembered last-minute that the puppet was only a pile of wood and nails.

 

“ _Drop the dummy!”_

 

The girl simply laughed lightly, her voice thrown in such a way that it almost sounded like both human and puppet was doing so at the same time. But of course it was fake. Obviously.

 

“Believe me pal, I tried ditchin’ ‘er!” the puppet chuckled, the exaggerated accent showing no signs of waning. “But she damn well follows me everywhere I go!”

 

The security guard was evidently too bewildered to make the first move, which was all the girl needed. Her puppet simply motioned with its hand, upon which the writhing mass on its palm flew outwards like a swarm of insects, covering his taser. In the ensuing panic, the policeman attempted to fire, only to experience four thousand volts quickly course through every muscle in his body in the space of a quarter of a second. The mass had obviously managed to get into the device somehow and cause it to backfire.

 

“C’mon blondie” the puppet spoke gruffly, as the duo advanced towards the once-snide girl. All the other judges had long since run for it, though the girl was seemingly too preoccupied with her injuries to notice. The raven-haired girl grabbed her by the arms, hoisting her to her feet as the black mass returned to the puppet’s hands, both of which were placed back onto the girl’s bleeding neck. “Ya try to scarper an’ ya gonna feel a lil’ _nip_ , ya get me?”

 

Yaz licked her lips nervously. Given the layout of the theatre lighting, the pair hadn’t noticed her. Finally undoing the clasp and drawing out her own taser, she waited until they’d opened the stage door and walked into the darkness before following. She gave the unconscious policeman one fleeting look as she moved to pursue them, but mentally shrugged it off. He’d be fine. Those tasers were made to stun, not kill.

 

The door opened up to a metal staircase, which seemed to descend below ground. The warmth of the stage lighting was slowly replaced with the cold harshness of emergency lighting as the walls became painted concrete and she finally stepped out into a…car park.

 

Of course. Whoever this girl was, she’d most likely want to escape with the blonde as a hostage. Not if she had anything to say about it.

 

Drawing herself out from behind the cover of a nearby Land Rover, she pulled out her taser and pointed it at them, issuing her command in a voice that sounded a million times more confident than she felt.

 

“Let her go.”  


The duo turned, the puppet’s hands still on the blonde’s neck. The blonde’s mascara was running slightly from where she’d started to cry.

 

It was only then that Yaz realised this may or may not have been an effective strategy. After all, it hadn’t worked out too well for her fellow officer. If that black mass came anywhere _near_ her weapon, she’d be ready for it.

 

The blonde’s eyes snapped towards Yaz’s own, all semblance of arrogance gone from her eyes. Ten minutes ago, Yaz would have been happy about that.

 

“Well,” the puppet sneered, a single wooden eyebrow raising, “ain’t that one hell of a taser. Where’s this dame been my whole life?”

 

“Help me!” the blonde half-whispered through tears, “Th – they’re crazy!”

 

“Crazy for the brunette, lady” the puppet responded, redirecting its attention towards her. “Which makes _you_ old news.”

 

The writhing black masses began to form on its hands again, gradually closing in on the girl’s neck. Yaz’s next move was based purely on impulse alone.

 

“What do you want?” she said, much louder than necessary given the emptiness of the car park. One thing her old partner had always told her was that if you kept them talking, you’d be able to gain more time in which to either formulate a plan or wait for backup. Given that any of her potential backup was currently upstairs recovering from an electric charge for at least another hour, it looked like the former was the only option.

 

“Want?” piped up the girl, with a deceptively innocent smile. Yaz took notice that even when the girl herself seemed to be speaking, the puppet’s eyes continued to move and its hands didn’t waver. “Well, we’d like a lot of things. A trip to France, for one. But for now, we’d just like to teach this talentless hack that perhaps it’s not a good idea to insult an entertainer’s trade.”

 

“By killing her?”

 

“Actually, killing her wasn’t my idea. I was just going to let Mister Ozzie have a little nibble on her shoulders and then run off. He was the one who wanted to go whole hog, y’know?”

 

This girl was quite clearly insane. And whilst Yaz lacked any real sympathy for the blonde being held as hostage, it was part of her job to save her regardless. Before she could even take another breath and second guess herself, Yaz fired the taser without warning.

 

The wires froze in mid air, suspended inches away from the doll’s face.

 

“I knew ya were packin’, honeybundle,” the puppet drawled, “but I didn’t think ya’d have had the cahoonies to actually fire the thing. Dame after my own heart, you are.”

 

Yaz was too stunned to react in time as the black masses shoot forth and grab her device in what felt like nanoseconds. She couldn’t help but scream as what may as well have been fire ruptured through every one of her muscles and she hit the tarmac, every nerve too fried to even register the impact.

 

Something lightly tapped the side of her face as her ringing ears registered the blonde girl whimpering again.

 

“The gal’s card” came that comic accent, “Thought ya might want somethin’ to give her family. I mean, it ain’t like any of the pieces we’ll be sending back’ll be at all recognisable, will they?”

 

The blonde fearfully cried out at this. Yaz heard a dull smacking sound as the corresponding figure recoiled.

 

“Shut it. Now Lyds, let’s hit the road. This show’s pretty much dead, anyhow.”

 

“Sure thing, Mister Ozzie! Move it, blondie.”  


The muffled pleading eventually faded out as their outlines grew blurrier and blurrier as they headed towards the car park exit. In her last few seconds of consciousness, Yaz read the name on the top of the blonde girl’s ID card, which had conveniently fallen the right way around for her to see it properly. Those two words may have made her faint with grim surprise if she wasn’t already blacking out.

 

Izzy Flint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all know the drill :) Comments and constructive criticism are my lifeblood. Please leave some! It's always a great motivator to know when people are enjoying, thinking or suggesting improvements to my story!
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are new, welcome! To those who've read last work, welcome back! I hope you enjoy this new story I've decided to write for you all. This fan-base is one of the kindest I know on this website and your constant comments and kudos are what have motivated me to finish the first story. I know it was short (mainly in an attempt to make the opening as dramatic as possible), but please be sure to tell me what you think about this chapter. Thoughts, constructive criticism...I'm here to hear it.


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